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KEATS 
DAYBYDAY 



EDITED • BY 

CONSTANCE MSPENDER 




NEWYORK 
TYCROWELL&. CO 

PUBLISHERS 




.ât- 



Copyright, jçıo 
By Thomas Y. Crowell & Co. 



THE UNIVERSITY PRESS, CAMBRIDGE, U. S. A. 



(gC!.A!^683r)9 



> I 



MOTTO 



The Seasons four, — 

Green-kyrtled Sprıng, flush Summer, golden store 

in Autumns sıckle, fVınter frosty hoar, 

Joın dance uııth shadoıvy Hours. 

Endymion. 



// 



Endymion. 



JANUARY 

JANUARY FIRST 

'Tp'IME'S sweet first-fruits. 

JANUARY SECOND 

So he stood in his shoes 
And he wonder'd, 
He wonder'd, 
He stood in his shoes 
And he wonder'd. 

A Song about Myself. 

JANUARY THIRD 

O love ! how potent hast thou been to teach 
Strange journeyings. 

Endymion. 



JANUARY FOURTH 

Put on your brightest looks; smile if you can; 
Behave as ali were happy. 

Otho the Great. 

[3] 



JANUARY FIFTH 

\Velcome jov, and welcome sorrow, 
Lethe's weed, and Hermes' feather; 
Come today, and come to-morrow, 
I do love vou hoth tosether. 



Fragrr.t'Tit. 



JANUARV SIXTH 

Moon ! keep wide thv golden ears — 

Hearken, stars ! and hearken, spheres ! — 

Hearken, thou eternal skv ! 

I sing an infant's lullahy, 

O pretty luUaby ! 

Listen, listen, listen, listen, 

Glisten, glisten, glisten. glisten 

And hear my lullaby ! 



A Profkecy. 



JANUARV SEVENTH 

Let me see; and let me vrrite 
Of the day, and of the night - 
Both toçrether. 



Fragment. 



JANUARV EIGHTH 

Now comes the pain of truth, to whom *t is pain. 

Hjperion. 

[4] 



JANUARY NINTH 

Stop and consider ! life is but a day; 
A fragile dewdrop on its perilous way 
From a tree's summit. 

Sleep and Poetry. 

JANUARY TENTH 

But this is human life; the war, the deeds, 
The disappointment, the anxiety, 
Imagination's struggles, far and nigh, 
AH human ; bearing in themselves this good, 
That they are stili the air, the subtle food 
To make us feel existence, and to shew 
How quiet death is. 

Endymion. 

JANUARY ELEVENTH 

Happy gloom ! 
Dark Paradise ! where pale becomes the bloom 
Of health by due; where silence dreariest 
Is most articulate; where hopes infest, 
Where those eyes are the brightest far that keep 
Their lids shut longest in a dreamless sleep — 
O happy spirit-home ! 

Endymion. 

JANUARY TWELFTH 

My restless spirit never could endure 
To brood so long upon ene luxury, 
Unless it did, though fearfuUy, espy 
A hope beyond the shadow of a dream. 

Endymion. 
[5] 



JANÜARY THIRTEENTH 

He ne'er is cro\vn'd 
With immortality, vvho fears to follo\v 
Where airy voices cali. 

EnJymion. 

JANUARY FOURTEENTH 

Put off Despoıuience ! nıiserable hane ! 

They siıould not know thee, who athirst to gain 

A noble end, are thirsty every hour. 

Sleep and Poetry. 

JANUARY FIFTEENTH 

Forlorn ! the very word is like a beli 
To toll me back from thee to my sole şelf! 
Adieu ! the fancv cannot cheat so well 
As she is fam'd to do, deceivinii elf. 

0de to a NightingaU. 

JANUARY SIXTEENTH 

Önce more s\veet life begin ! 

Endymion. 

JANUARY SEVENTEENTH 

Be thou therefore in the van 
Of circumstances; vea, seize the arıo\\'s barb 
Before the tense string murmur. 

Hypeyion. 

[6] 



JANUARY EIGHTEENTH 

Gummy frankincense was sparkling bright 
'Neath smothering parsley, and a hazy light 
Spread greyly eastward. 

Endymion. 

JANUARY NINETEENTH 

Lovely the moon in ether, ali alone. 

Calidore. 

JANUARY TWENTIETH 

They told her hüw, upon St. Agnes' Eve, 
Young virgins might have visions of delight, 
And soft adorings from their loves receive 
Upon the honey'd middle of the night. 

E<ve of St. Agnes. 

JANUARY TWENTY-FIRST 

Ali men may err. 

Otho the Great. 

JANUARY TWENTY-SECOND 

And every gulf, and every chasm old, 

And every height, and every sullen depth 

Voiceless, or hoarse with loud tormented streams : 

And ali the everlasting cataracts, 

And ali the headlong torrents far and near, 

Mantled before in darkness, and huge shade, 

Now saw the light and made it terrible. 

Hyperion. 
[7] 



JANUARY TWENTY-THIRD 

Search, Thea, search ! 
Öpen thine eyes eterne, and sphere them round 
• Upon ali space: space starr'd and lorn of light; 
Space region'd with life-air; and barren void; 
Spaces of fire, and ali the yawn of hell. — 
Search, Thea, search ! 

Hy perlon. 

JANUARY TWENTY-FOURTH 

The visions of the earth were göne and fled. 

Endymion. 

JANUARY TWENTY-FIFTH 

Mark well ! 
As Heaven and Earth are fairer, fairer far 
Than Chaos and blank Darkness, though önce 

chiefs ; 
And as \ve show beyond that Heaven and earth 
in form and shape compact and beautiful, 
in \vill, in action free, companionship. 
And thousand other signs of purer life; 
So on our heels a fresh perfection treads, 
A po\ver more strong in beauty, born of us 
And fated to excel us, as \ve pass 
in glory that old Darkness. 

Hyperion. 

[8] 



JANUARY TWENTY-SIXTH 

Some looking back, and some with upward gaze, 
Yes, thousands in a thousand different ways 
Flit onward. . 

Sleep mıd Poetry. 

JANUARY TWENTY-SEVENTH 

O Sorrow, 
Why dost borrow 
The lustrous passion from a falcon eye ? 
To give the glow-worm light ? 
Or, on a moonless night, 
To tinge, on syren shores, the salt sea spry ? 

Endymion. 

JANUARY TWENTY-EIGHTH 

Sometimes the counsel of a dying man 

Doth operate quietly when his breath is göne. 

Otho the Great. 

JANUARY TWENTY-NINTH 

Who alive can say 
Thou art no Poet — mayst not teli thy dreams 
Since every man whose soul is not a clod 
Hath visions and would speak, if he had loved 
And been well nurtured in his mother-tongue. 

Hjperion. 

[9] 



JANTARV THIRTİETH 

To sage advisers let me ever bend 
A meek attentive ear. 

KİKg SttfArm. 

JANUARV THIRTV-FIRST 

Sweet Hope, ethereal balm upon me shed 
And vrave thv silver pinions o'er my head. 

T0 Hfe. 



[lO] 



FEBRUARY 



FEBRUARY FIRST 

LOVE never dies, but lives, immortal Lord. 
habdla. 



FEBRUARY SECOND 

Oh ! what a power has white Simpliclty ! 



Sonnet. 



FEBRUARY THIRD 

St. Agnes' Eve — Ah, bitter chiU it was ! 
The owl, for ali his feathers, was a-cold ; 
The hare limp'd trembling through the frozen 

grass, 
And silent was the flock in vvoolly fold. 

E-ije of St. Agnes. 

FEBRUARY FOURTH 

High-mindedness, a jealousy for good, 
A loving-kindness for the great man's fame, 
Dwells here and there Nvith people of no name. 

Sonnet XIU. 

[ II ] 



FEBRUARV FIFTH 

Spirit ot" a \vinter's night; 
\Vhen the soundless earth is muffled; 
And the caked snow is shuffled 
From the ploughbov's heavv shoon. 



FoMcy. 



FEBRUARY SIXTH 

Cow-ards, \vho never kne\v their httle hearts, 
Till flurried danger held the mirror up. 

Otka tkt Greaî. 

FEBRUARY SEVENTH 

For *t is the eternal la\v 
That tîrst in beautv should be tîrst in might. 

Hyf^fritm. 

FEBRUARY EIGHTH 

For as in theatres of crovvded men 
Hubbub increases more thev cali out "Hush." 

Hjperiem. 

FEBRU-ARY NINTH 

Save me from curious conscience, that stili lords 
Its strength tor darkness, burrovring lîke a mole; 
Tum the key deftlv in the oiled wards. 
And seal the hushed casket of thv soul. 

StKKft: T: Slrr/y. 

[ 12] 



FEBRUARY TENTH 

There was a list'ning fear in her regard, 
As if calamity had but begun ; 
As if the venom'd clouds of evil days 
Had spent their mahce. 

Hyperion. 

FEBRUARY ELEVENTH 

it keeps eternal \vhisperings around 
Desolate shoıes, and \vith its mighty swell 
Gluts twice ten thousand caverns. 

Sonnet: On the Sea. 

FEBRUARY TWELFTH 

Be stili the leaven, 
That spreading in this duU and clodding eaıth 
Gives it a touch ethereal — a ne\v birth. 

EnJymion. 

FEBRUARY THIRTEENTH 

You kno\v the clear Lake, and the little Isles, 
The mountains blue, and cold near neighbour 

rills, 
Ali which else\vhere are but half animate. 

Epistle to John Hamilton Reynolds. 

FEBRUARY FOURTEENTH 

There are 
Richer entanglements, enthralments far 
More self-destroying, leading, by degrees, 
To the chief intensity ; the crown of these 

[ 13] 



İs ınadc ot" lo\ o aıul hicıulship. aıul sits lıiglı 

Upon the torehead ot" hunıanitv — 

Ali its nıore ponderous aıui bulkv Nvorth 

Is t"ıiendship; Nvlıence there ever issues t'orth 

A steadv splendour; but at the tip-top 

There hangs. bv unseen fihıı, an orbed drop 

0{ Ui:;lu, and that is love. 



FFBRrARV FİFTEENTH 

Do not ali charms fly 
At the mere touch of cold philosophy 



EnJymioH. 



La mi a. 



FEBRUARY SIXTEENTH 

A rosv sanctuarv will I dress 
With the wreath'd trellis of a \vorking brain, 
With buds and bells. and stars without a name, 
\\"\û\ ali the gardener Fancy e*er could teign, 
\Vho, breeding tlONvers, nvüI never breed the same. 

OJe to Psycke. 

EEBRUARV SFVENTEENTH 

Av. in the verv temple of Delight 
Veil'd Melancholy has her sovran shrine. 

OJi tj Mdanckoly. 

EEBRUARV EIGHTEFNTH 

1 sat mvself 
Upon an eagle's watch, that I might see 
And seeing ne'er forget. 

Hy-pmam. 
[14] 



FEBRUARY NİNETEENTH 

So he inwardly began 
On Things for \vhich no vvording can be found. 

EnJjmion. 

FEBRUARY TWENTIETH 

in vvintıy winds the simple snow is safe, 
But fadeth at the greeting of the sun. 

Ot//o the Great. 

FEBRUARY TVVENTY-FIRST 

Hadst thou Hv'd in days of old, 

O what wonders had been told 

Of thy lively countenance, 

And thy humid eyes that dance 

in the midst of their own brightness; 

in the very face of lightness, 

Över which thine eyebrovvs, leaning, 

Picture out each lovely meaning: 

in a dainty bend they he, 

Like to streaks across the sky. 

To . 

FEBRUARY TWENTY-SECOND 
The hour may come 
When vve shall meet in püre elysium. 
On earth I may not love thee. 

Endymion. 

[ 15] 



FEBRUARV T\VENTV-THIRD 

AU is colJ Beautv; pain is never done. 

Sonnet : On Fisiting the Tomb of Bums. 



FEBRUARY TWENTV-FOURTH 

I had a dove, and the sweet dove died, 

And I have thought it died of grieving; 

O what could it grieve for ? Its feet \vere tied 

With a silken thread of my own hand's weaving. 

Sweet httle red feet ! why should you die ? 

Why should vou leave me, sweet bird ! whv ? 

Song. 

FEBRUARY T\VENTY-FIFTH 

O sovereign po\ver of love ! O grief! O bahn ! 
Ali records, saving thine, come cool, and calm. 
And shadowv, through the mist of passed years : 
For others, good or had, hatred and tears 
Have welcome indolent; but touching thine, 
One sigh doth echo, one poor sob doth pine, 
One kiss brings honey-dew from buried davs. 

Endymion. 

FEBRUARY TWENTY-SIXTH 

Mark me ! Thou hast thews 
Immortal, for thou art of heavenly race. 

Endsmion. 



[ ı6] 



FEBRUARY TWENTY-SEVENTH 
This young soul in age's mask. 



Endymion. 



FEBRUARY TWENTY-EIGHTH 

O moon ! old boughs lisp forth a holier din 
The while they feel thine airy fellowship. 
Thou dost bless everyv/here, with silver lip 
Kissing dead things to life. 

Endymion. 

FEBRUARY TWENTY-NINTH 

If I sleep not, I am a waking wretch. 

Otho the Great. 



[ 17] 



MARCH 



MARCH FIRST 



W 



HERE soil is, men grow, 
Whether to weeds or flo\vers. 

Endymion. 



MARCH SECOND 

He has his lusty Sprino;, when fancy clear 
Takes in ali beauty with an easy span. 

Sovnet : The Human Seasons, 

MARCH THIRD 

Bright star, would I were steadfast as thou art — 
Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night 
And watching, with eternal lids apart, 
No — yet stili steadfast, stili unchangeable. 

Sonnet to Shakespeare. 

MARCH FOURTH 

Keen, fitful gusts are whisp'ring here and there 
Among the bushes half leafless, and dry; 
The stars look very cold about the sky. 

Sonnet IX. 

[ 19] 



MARCH FIFTH 

Far awav to leave 
AH meaner thoughts. and take a sweet reprieve 
From little cares. 

Sonnet. 

MARCH SIXTH 

it is inıpossible to escape from toil 
O' the sudden and receive thv spiritings; 
The flower must drink the nature of the soil 
Before it can put fonh its blossoming. 

Sonnet .- To Sfenser. 

MARCH SEVENTH 

O Poesy ! for thee I hold my pen 

That am not vet a glorious denizen 

Of thv w'ide heaven — Should I rather kneel 

UjX>n some mountain-top until I feel 

A glovring splendour round about me hung. 

Sîtff anJ Portry. 

MARCH EIGHTH 

Must not a woman be 

A feather on the sea. 

Swav*d to and fro bv ever\" wind and tide : 

Of as uncertain speed 

As blow-ball from the mead : 

Odt ts Fan%f. 

[20] 



MARCH NINTH 

Old ditties sigh above their father's grave; 
Ghosts of melodious prophesyings rave 
Round every spot where trod ApoUo's feet; 
Bronze clarions awake, and faintly bruit 
Where long ago a giant battle was; 
And fıom the tuıf a lullaby doth pass. 

Endyrnion. 

MARCH TENTH 

He saw not tbe two maidens, nor their smiles, 
Wan as primroses, gathered at midnight 
By chiUy finger'd spring. 

Endyrnion. 

MARCH ELEVENTH 

Why were they proud ? Again we ask aloud 
Why in the name of Glory were they proud ? 

Isabella. 

MARCH TWELFTH 

Clouds stili with shadowy moisture hunt the 

earth, 
Stili suck their fiil of light from sun and moon ; 
Stili buds the tree, and stili the seashores murmur 
There is no death in ali the universe, 
No smell of death. 

Hyperion. 

[21 ] 



MARCH rHlRTFKNMH 

\\t.\ \vluMl tlu- SOUİ İs ricd 

Vo luglı alnne om lıead, 
ArtVigluod do \ve ga/e 
Attcı its airv nuı/e. 

.■1 Draught of Sunshiif. 

MAKCH KOl'RTFFN'rH 

\\ luMi simplcst thiuiis put imi a soiiiImo casr. 
A ııulaiK-İH''l\ ınood \vill lıaunt a inan, 
lıuil nıost cas\- ınattcrs tak.0 tho slıapo 
(.">!" unaclncvablc tasks. 

Oiko thi Greaî. 

MAKCH FlFrFFNTH 

\\'lu-n tlu- Nii^ht dotlı tncot tho Moon 

İn a daık conspiıaoy 

To hanislı F\cm\ tVonı luı Sky. 

Ttmcy. 

MARCTl SIXTFFNTH 

l.iko tho nıild ınoon 
\Vho comfons those she seos not, \\ ho knows not 
\\hat ovos aro upward cast. 

HsffrioK. 

MARCH SFVFNTFFNTH 

O doanh 
Ot" human \voids ! Rouglmoss ot" nıoıtal spoech ! 



MARCH EIÜHTEENTH 

Forgive me that I have not eagle's wings — 
That what I want I know not where to seek. 

To Hadyn. 

MARCH NINETEENTH 

When some bright thought has darted through 

my brain, 
Through ali that day I 've fek a greater pieasure 
Than if I 'd brought to light a hidden treasure. 

To George Keats. 

MARCH TWENTIETH 

What merest whim 
Seems ali this poor endeavour after fame, 
To one, who keeps within his steadfast aim 
A love immortal ? 

Endymion. 

MARCH TWENTY-FIRST 

Then the events of this wide world I 'd seize 
Like a strong giant, and my spirit tease 
Till at its shoulders it should proudly see 
Wings to find out immortality. 

^leep and Poetry. 

MARCH TWENTY-SECOND 

'T is ignorance that makes a barren waste 
Of al! beyond itself, thou dost bedew 

[23] 



Green rushes like our rivers, and dost taste 
The pleasant sun-rise, green isles hast thou too 
And to the sea as happily dost haste. 

Sonnet : To the Nile. 



MARCH TWENTY-THIRD 

Perhaps ye aıe too happy to be glad. 



Endymion. 



MARCH TWENTY-FOURTH 

Self-folding like a flower 
Tnat faints into itself at evening-hour. 

Lamia. 

MARCH TWENTY-FIFTH 

Lad\- ! O, would to Heaven your poor servant 
Could do you better service than mere words ! 

Otho the Great. 



MARCH TWENTY-SIXTH 
Och the charm 
When we choose 
To follow one's nose 
To the north, 
To the north, 
To fo)low one's nose 
To the north ! 

[24] 



A Song about Mjjhj. 



MARCH TWENTY-SEVENTH 

Her Brothers were the craggy hiUs 
Her Sisters larchen trees — 
Alone with her great family 
She liv'd as she did please. 



Meg Merrilies. 



MARCH TWENTY-EIGHTH 

Young playmates of the rose and daffodil, 

Be careful, ere ye enter in, to fiil 

Your baskets high 

With fennel green, and balm, and golden pines. 

Endj?nion. 



MARCH TWENTY-NINTH 

I stood tip-toe upon a little hill, 

The air was cooling, and so very stili, 

That the sweet buds which with a modest 

pride 
PuU droopingly, in slanting curve aside, 
Their scantly leaved, and finely tapering 

stems 
Had not yet lost those starry diadems 
Caught from the early sobbing of the morn. 

Poems. 



[25] 



MARCH THIRTIETH 
Spiıit here that laughest ! 
Spiıit here that quafFest! 
Spirit here that dancest ! 
Spirit here that prancest ! 
Spiıit, \vith thee 
I join in the glee. 

Song. 

MARCH THIRTY-FIRST 

She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy hhss, 
For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair. 

OJe on a Grecian Urn. 



[26] 



^<ej^<.} 



A P R I L 



APRIL FIRST 

'Hp IS the early April lark 

Or the rooks with busy caw, 
Foraging for sticks and straw. 
Thou shalt, at one glance, behold 
The daisy and the marigold; 
White plum'd lihes, and the first 
Hedge-grown primrose that hath burst. 

Fanry. 

APRIL SECOND 

Thou shalt see the field-mouse peep 
Meagre from its celled sleep; 
And the snake ali winter thin 
Cast on sunny bank its skin; 
Freckled nest-eggs thou shalt see 
Hatching in the havvthorn tree. 

Fancy. 

APRIL THIRD 

To thee the spring will be a harvest time. 

Lines from a Letter to J. H. Reynolds. 
[27] 



APRIL FOURTH 

Fame, like a wayward girl, will stili be coy 
To those who woo her with too slavish knees, 
But makes surrender to some thoughtless boy, 
And dotes the more upon a heart at ease : 
She is a gipsy, will not speak to those 
Who have not learnt to be content without her. 
7wo Sonnets on Fame. 

APRIL FIFTH 

Pleasure never is at home: 

At a touch sweet Pleasure melteth, 

Like to bubbles when rain pelteth. 

Fancy. 

APRIL SIXTH 

And O, and O, 

The daisies blow 

And the primroses are waken'd, 

And the violets white 

Sit in silver plight, 

And the green bud 's as long as the spike end. 

Teignmouth. 
APRIL SEVENTH 

Life is the rose's hope \vhile yet unhlo\vn; 

The reading of an everchanging tale; 

The light uplifting of a maiden's veil; 

A pigeon tumbling in clear summer air; 

A laughing school-boy, without grief or çare, 

Riding the springy branches of an elm. 

Sleep and Poetry, 
[28] 



APRIL EIGHTH 

Not flowers budding in an April rain, 

Nor breath of sleeping deve, nor river's flow, — 

No, nor the Eolian twaTig of Love's own bow 

Can mingle music fit for the soft ear 

Of goddess Cytherea. 

Endymion. 

APRIL NINTH 

Before the daisies, vermeil rimm'd and white, 
Hide in deep herbage; and ere yet the bees 
Hum about globes of clover and sweet peas. 

Endymion. 

APRIL TENTH 

Ah, happy happy boughs ! that cannot shed 
Your leaves, nor ever bid the Spring adieu; 
And happy melodist, unwearied, 
For ever piping songs for ever new. 

0de on a Grecian Urn. 

APRIL ELEVENTH 

Dread opener of the mysterious doors 
Leading to universal knowledge — see 
Great son of Dryope, 

The many that are come to pay their vows 
With leaves about their brows ! 

Endymion. 

[29] 



APRIL TWELFTH 

Oh sweet Fancy ! let her loose ; 
Everything is spoilt by use; 
Wheıe's the cheek that doth not fade 
Too much gaz'd at ? 

Fancy. 

APRIL THIRTEENTH 

Some shape of heauty moves away the pall 
From our dark spirits. Such the sun, the moon, 
Trees old and young, sprouting a shady boon 
For simple sheep; and such are dafFodils 
With the green vvorld they live in; and clear rills 
That for themselves a cooling covert make 
'Gainst the hot season. 

Endjmion. 

APRIL FOURTEENTH 
Be like an April day, 
Smihng and cold and gay, 
A tenıperate Hly, temperate as fair; 
Then, Heaven ! there will be 
A waımer June for me. 

Odc to Fanny. 

APRIL FIFTEENTH 

Buds gatheı'd fronı the green spring's nıiddle- 

days 
They scatter'd — daisy, primrose, hyacinth. 

The Cap and Belit. 
[30] 



Endymion. 



APRIL SIXTEENTH 

Have not rains 
Green'd över April's lap ? 

APRIL SEVENTEENTH 

The freshness of the space of Heaven above 
Edg'd round with daık tree-tops ? through 

which a dove 
Would often beat its wings, and often too 
A little cloud would move across the blue. 

Endymion. 

APRIL EIGHTEENTH 

"Mas!" 
Said he, "will ali this gush of feeling pass 
Away in solitude ? And must they wane, 
Like melodies upon a sandy plain, 
Without an echo ? " 

Endymion. 

APRIL NINETEENTH 

Now while I cannot hear the city's din; 
Now while the early budders are just new, 
And run in mazes of the youngest hue 
About old forests; while the willow trails 
Its delicate amber. 

Endymion. 

[31 ] 



APRIL TWENTIETH 

Come ! conıe ! 
Aıise ! awake ! Clcar summer has forth \valk'd 
Unto the clover-sNvard, and she has talk'd 
Full süothingly to every nested finch. 

Endymion. 

APRIL TWENTY-FIRST 

So could we live long hfe in little space 

So time itself would be annihilate, 

So a long journey in ohHvioııs haze 

To serve our joys vvould Icngthen and dilate. 

Sonnft : To Jofm HaT/ülton Reynolds. 

APRIL TWENTY-SECOND 

On the western window panes 
The chilly sunset faintly told 
Of unmatured green valleys cold, 
Of the green thorny bloomless hedge, 
Of liveıs new with spring-tide sedge, 
Of pıimroses by sheltered rills. 

The E-ve of St. Mark. 

APRIL TWENTY-THIRD 

We nıay soft hunıanity put on. 
And sit, and rhyme and think on Chatterton; 
And that warm-hearted Shakespeare sent to 
meet him. 

To Gtorge Felton Mattheı». 



APRIL TWENTY-FOURTH 

April the twenty-fourth, — thls coming day 
Now breathing its full bloom upon the skies 
Will end in St. Mark's Eve. 

The Cap and Bells. 

APRIL TWENTY-FIFTH 

Blue! Gentle cousin of the forest-green, 
Married to green in ali the sweetest flovvers — 
Forget-me-not,— the Blue-beil, — and,that Oueen 
Of secrecy, the Violet : what strange powers 
Hast thou, as a mere shadow! But, how great 
When in an Eye thou art, alive with fate. 

Sonnet. 

APRIL TWENTY-SIXTH 

it was a jasmine bower, ali bestrown 
With golden moss. 

Endymion. 

APRIL TWENTY-SEVENTH 

Unheard 
Save of the quiet Primrose, and the span 
Of heaven and few ears, 
Rounded by thee, my song shall die away 

Content as theirs, 
Rich in the simple worship of a day. 

Fragment of an Ode to Maia. 

[33] 



APRIL TWENTY-EIGHTH 

When last the wintry gusts gave över strife 
With the conquering sun of spring, and left the 

skies 
Warm and serene. 

Endymion. 

APRIL TWENTY-NINTH 

There came upon my face, in plenteous showers, 
Dew-drops, and dewy buds, and leaves and 

flovvers 
Wrapping ali objects from my smothered sight. 

Endymion. 

APRIL THIRTIETH 

Tho', to-day 
I 've gathered young spring flovv^ers, and flovv'ers 

gay 

Of perivv^inkle and wild strawberry, 
Stili do I that most fierce destruction see, — 
The Shark at savage prey, the Hawk at pounce, 
The gentle Robin, like a Pard or Ounce, 

Ravening a \voriTi. 

Epistle to "John Hamilton Reynolds. 



[34] 



MAY 



MAY FIRST 



/"^AY villagers, upon a morn of May, 

When they have tired their gentle limbs 
with play, 
And form'd a snowy circle on the grass, 
And placed in midst of ali that lovely lass 
Who chosen is their queen — with her fine head 
Crowned with flowers purple, white, and red. 

To George Keais. 
MAY SECOND 

The morn was clouded, but no shower fell 
Tho' in her lids hung the sweet tears of May. 

0de on İndolence, 
MAY THIRD 

Me to the blooms, 
Blue-eyed Zephyr, of those flowers 
Far in the west where the May-cloud lowers; 
And the beams of stili Vesper, when winds are 

ali wist, 
Are shed thro' the rain and the milder mist, 
And twilight your floating bowers. 

Song of Four Fairies. 



MAY FOURTH 

Underneath large blue-bells tented, 
Where the daisies are rose-scented, 
And the rose herself has got 
Perfume which on earth is not. 



0de. 



MAY FIFTH 

'T is blue, and over-spangled with a million 
Of little eyes, as though thou wert to shed, 
Över the darkest lushest bluebell bed, 
Handfuls of daisies. 

EnJymion. 

MAY SIXTH 

By the wandering melody nıay trace 
Which way the tender legged Hnnet hops. 

Son net. 

MAY SEVENTH 

There must be Gods thrown dovvn, and trumpets 

blown 
Of triuınph calm, and hymns of festival 
Upon the golden clouds metropolitan, 
Voices of soft proclaim, and silver stir 
Of strings in hollow shells; and there shall be 
Beautiful things made new, for the surprise 
Of the sky-children. 

Hy peri on. 
[36] 



MAY EIGHTH 

She will bring thee, ali together, 
Ali delights of summer weather; 
Ali the buds and bells of May, 
From dewy sward or thorny spray. 



Fancy. 



MAY NINTH 

Ah ! who can e'er forget so fair a being ? 
Who can forget her half retiring sweets ? 
God ! She is like a milk-white lamb that bleats 
For man's protection. 

Imitatiûtı of Spenser. 

MAY TENTH 

Things such as these are ever harbingers 

To trains of peaceful images : the stirs 

Of a swan's neck unseen among the rushes; 

A linnet starting ali about the bushes; 

A butterfly, with golden wings broad parted, 

Nestling a rose, convuls'd as though it smarted 

With över pleasure. 

Sleep and Poetry. 

MAY ELEVENTH 

Happy is England : I could be content 
To see no other verdure than its own; 
To feel no other breezes than are blovv^n 
Through its tali woods v^ith high romances blent. 

Sonnet XFIL 



MAY TWELFTH 

The dew 
Had taken fairy phantasies to strew 
Daisies upon the sacred svvard last eve. 

E7idymion. 

MAY THIRTEENTH 

O Sorrow, 
Why dost borrow 
Heart's lightness from the merriment of May ? 

Endymion. 

MAY FOURTEENTH 

O the Spring — the Spring! 
I lead the life of a king! 
Couch'd in the teeming grass, 
I spy each pretty lass. 

Daisy's Song. 

MAY FIFTEENTH 

Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget 

What thou among the leaves hast never known, 
The weariness, the fever and the fret 

Here, where men sit and hear each other groan; 
Where palsy shakes a few, sad, last grey hairs, 
Where youth grows pale and spectre-thin, 
and dies; 
Where but to think is to be fuU of sorrow 
And leaden-eyed despairs, 
[38] 



Where Beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes, 
Or new Love pine at them beyond to-morrow. 
0de to a Nightingale. 

MAY SIXTEENTH 

O sweet Fancy! let her loose; 
Summer's joys are spoilt by use, 
And the enjoying of the Spring 
Fades as does its blossoming. 

Fa)uy. 

MAY SEVENTEENTH 
O, for an age so shelter'd from annoy 
That I may never know how change the moons, 
Or hear the voice of busy common sense ! 

0de on İndolence. 

MAY EIGHTEENTH 

A basket full 
Of ali sweet herbs that searching eye could cull; 
Wild thyme, and valley-lilies whiter stili 
Than Leda's love, and cresses from the rill. 

Endymion. 

MAY NINETEENTH 

The nightingale had ceased, and a few stars 
Were lingering in the heavens, while the thrush 
Began calm-throated. 

Hyperion. 
[39] 



MAY TWENTIETH 

'T is not through envy of thy happy lot, 
But being too happy in thine happiness, — 
That thou, light-winged Dıyad of the trees 
in some melodious plot 
Of beechen green, and shadows numberless, 
Singest of summer in full-throated ease. 

0de to a Nightmgale. 

MAY TWENTY-FIRST 

Where the nightingale doth sing, 
Not a senseless tranced thing, 
But divine melodious truth; 
Philosophic numbers smooth; 
Tales and golden histories 
Of heaven and its mysteries. 

0de. 



MAY TWENTY-SECOND 

After dark vapours have oppress'd our plains 
For a long dreary season, comes a day 
Born of the gentle South, and clears away 
From the sick heavens ali unseemly stains. 
The anxious month, relieved of its pains, 
Takes as a long-lost right the feel of May. 

Sonnet. 



[40] 



MAY TWENTY-THIRD 

in the long vistas of the years to roU, 
Let me not see our country's honour fade; 
O let me see our land retain her soul, 
Her pride, her freedom. 

To Hope. 

MAY TWENTY-FOURTH 

The pearliest dew not brings 
Such morning incense from the fields of May, 
As do those brighter drops, that twinkling stray 
From those kind eyes. 

Endymion. 

MAY TWENTY-FIFTH 

No leaf doth tremble, no ripple is there 

On the river, — ali 's stili and the night's sleepy 

eye 
Closes up, and forgets ali its Lethean çare, 
Charm'd to death by the drone of the humming 
May-fly. 



MAY TWENTY-SIXTH 

The earth is glad : the merry lark has pour'd 
His early song against yon breezy sky, 
That spreads o'er our solemnity. 

Endymion. 

[41 ] 



MAY TWENTY-SEVENTH 

There was store 
Of newest joys upon that alp. Sometimes 
A scent of violets, and blossoming linıes, 
Loitered around us; then of honey cells 
Made delicate from ali white flower-bells. 

Endymion. 



MAY TWENTY-EIGHTH 

He has his summer, when luxuriously 
Spıing's honied end of youthful thought he 

loves 
To ruminate, and hy such dıeaming nigh 
His nearest unto Heaven. 

Sonnct : The Human Seasons. 



MAY TWENTY-NINTH 

Whom I have known from her first infancy, 

Baptiz'd her in the bosom of the Church, 

Watch'd her, as anxious husbandmen the 

grain, 
From the first shoot tiU the unripe mid-May, 
Then to the tender ear of her June days. 

Otho the Grrat. 



[42] 



MAY THIRTIETH 

What, without the social thought of thee, 
Would be the wonders of the sky and sea ? 

To my Erother Gcorgc. 

MAY THIRTY-FIRST 

What achievement high 
Is, in this restless world, for me reserv'd. 

Endymion. 



[43] 



JUNE 



JUNE FIRST 

VI ZHEN Thou joinest with the Nine, 

And ali the powers of song combine, 
We listen here on earth; 
The dying tones that fiil the air, 
And charm the ear of evening fair, 
From thee, great god of Bards, receive their 
heavenly birth. 

0de to Apollo. 



JUNE SECOND 

Oh that our dreamings ali, of sleep or wake, 
Would ali their colours from the sunset take. 

Epistle to John Hamilton Reynolds. 

JUNE THIRD 

Lo ! from opening clouds I saw emerge 
The loveliest moon that ever silvered o'er 
A shell for Neptune's goblet. 

Endymion. 

[45] 



JUNE FOURTH 

She dwells with Beauty — Beauty that must 

die; 
And Joy, whose hand is ever at his lips. 

0de to Melancholy. 



JUNE FIFTH 

VVithin a little space again it gave 

Its airy swellings, vvith a gentle wave, 

To light-hung leaves, in smoothest echoes 

breaking 
Thıough copse-clad valleys — ere their death 

o'ertaking 
The surgy murmurs of the lonely sea. 

Endymion. 



JUNE SIXTH 

Now morning from her orient chamher came, 
And her first footsteps touch'd a verdant hill; 
Crovvning its tawny crest with amber flame 
Silv'ring the untainted gushes of its rill. 

Imitation of Spenser. 



JUNE SEVENTH 

Let me have music dying, and I seek 
I bid adieu to ali. 

EnJjmion. 
[46] 



JUNE EIGHTH 

The moon put forth a little diamond peak 

No bigger than an unobserved star, 

Or tiny point of fairy scymetar; 

Bright signal that she only stooped to tie 

Her silver sandals, ere deliciously 

She bowed into the heavens her timid head. 

Endymion. 

JUNE NINTH 

Would I were whole in love ! 

Endymion. 



JUNE TENTH 

When, in June, 
Tali chestnuts keep away the sun and moon. 

EnJymion. 



JUNE ELEVENTH 

Fragrant air ! delicious light ! 

Song of Four Fairies. 

JUNE TWELFTH 

How fever'd is the man who cannot look 
Upon his mortal days with temperate blood. 

Tıvo Sonnets on Fame. 



[47 



JUNE THIRTEENTH 

The moon 
Just in its mid-life in the midst of June. 

Fragment of the Castle BuiUer. 

JUNE FOURTEENTH 

in the morning tvvilight wandered forth 
Beside the osiers of a rivulct, 
Full ankle-deep in lilies of the vale. 

Hjperion. 

JUNE FIFTEENTH 

Hedge for the thrush to live in, 
And the hollow tree 
For the buzzing bee, 

And a bank for the wasp to hive in. 

Teignmouth. 

JUNE SIXTEENTH 

How tiptoe Night holds back her dark grey hood. 
Just so may love, although 't is understood 
The mere commingHng of passionate breath, 
Produce more than our searching witnesseth. 

Endymion. 

JUNE SEVENTEENTH 

The Sun, with his great eye, 
Sees not so much as I ; 
And the moon, ali silver-proud, 
Might as well be in a cloud. 

Daisy's Song. 

[48 ] 



JUNE EIGHTEENTH 

I will never by mean hands be led 
From this so famous field. 

King Stepken. 



JUNE NINETEENTH 

The air that floated by me seemed to say 

" JVrite! thou wilt never have a better day." 

To Charles Conxjden Clarke. 



JUNE TWENTIETH 

Twin roses by the zephyr blown apart 
Only to meet again more close, and share 
The inward fragrance of each other's heart. 

habclla. 



JUNE TWENTY-FIRST 

The very pride of June. 

Endym'ıon. 



JUNE TWENTY-SECOND 

Eternal whispers, glooms, the birth, Ufe, death, 
Of unseen flowers in heavy peacefulness. 

Endymion. 



[49] 



JUNE TWENTY-THIRD 

The bowery shore 
VVent ofF in gende windings to the hoar 
And light blue mountains; but no breathing man 
With a warm heart, and eye prepared to scan 
Nature's clear beauty, could pass lightly by 
Objects that look'd so invitingly 
On either side. 

Calidore. 



JUNE TWENTY-FOURTH 

I move to the end in lowHness of heart. 

Endymion. 

JUNE TWENTY-FIFTH 

Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird ! 

No hungry generations tread thee down; 
The voice I hear this passing night was heard 

in ancient days by emperor and clown : 
Perhaps the self-same song that found a path 
Through the sad heart of Ruth, when sick for 
home, 
She stood in tears amid the ahen corn; 
The same that oft-times hath 
Charm'd magic casements, opening on the 
foam 
Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn. 

0de to a Nightingale. 
[50] 



JUNE TWENTY-SIXTH 

There never liv'd a mortal man who went 
His appetite beyond his natural sphere 
But starv'd and died. 

Endymion. 

JUNE TWENTY-SEVENTH 

Vesper, the beauty-crest of summer weather; 
To summon ali the downiest clouds together 
For the sun's purple couch. 

Endymion. 

JUNE TWENTY-EIGHTH 

Meadow green 
Where the close eye in deep rich fur might trace 
A silver tissue scantly to be seen, 
As daisies lurked in June-grass, buds in green. 

The Cap and Bel/s. 

JUNE TWENTY-NINTH 

My sleep had been embroider'd with dim dreams, 
My soul had been a lawn besprinkled o'er 
With flowers, and stirring shades and baffled 
beams. 

Ode on Indolence. 



[51] 



JUNE THIRTIETH 

Love in a hut, vvith water and a crust, 

Is — Love, forgive us ! — cinders, ashes, dust; 

Love in a palace is perhaps at last 

More grievous torment than a hermit's fast. 

Lamia. 



[ 52] 



JULY 

JULY FIRST 

T CANNOT see what floveers are at my feet 
Nor what soft incense hangs upon the 
boughs 
But, in embalmed darkness, guess each svveet 
Wherewith the seasonable month endows 
The grass, the thicket, and the fruit tree wild. 
0de to a Nighüngale. 
JULY SECOND 

I see the lark down-dropping to his nest 
And the broad-winged sea-guU never at rest. 
For when no more he spreads his feathers free 
His breast is dancing on the restless sea. 

To George Keats. 
JULY THIRD 

'T is the pest 
Of love, that fairest joys give most unrest; 
That things of dehcate and tenderest worth 
Are swallowed ali, and make a seared dearth 
By one consuming flame; it doth immerse 
And sufFocate true blessings in a curse. 

Endymion. 
[53] 



JULY FOURTH 

The morn, the eve, the light, the shade, the 

flovvers, 
Clear streams, smooth lakes, and overlooklng 

towers. 

InJuction to a Poem. 



JULY FIFTH 

Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard 
Are sweeter. 

0de on a Grecian Ur7i. 



JULY SIXTH 

A drainless shovver 
Of light is poesy; 't is the supreme of power, 
'T is might half slumb'ring on its own right arm. 
The very archings of her eye-Hds charm 
A thousand vviUing agents to obey, 
And stili she governs with the mildest sway. 

Slcep and Poeiry. 



JULY SEVENTH 

There will I be, a most unwelcome guest, 
And parley with him, as a son should do, 
Who doubly loathes a father's tyranny; 
Teli him how feeble is that tyranny, 
[54J 



How the relationship of father and son 
Is no more valid than a silken leash 
Where lions tug adverse, if love grow hot 
From interchanged love through many years. 

Otho the Grcat. 



JULY EIGHTH 

There the lily and the musk-rose sighing 
Are emblems true of hapless lovers dying. 

To George Keats. 



JULY NINTH 

The song of birds — the whlsp'ring of the 

leaves — 
The voice of waters, the great beli that heaves 
With solemn sound, and thousand others more. 

Sonnet IV. 



JULY TENTH 

As when upon a tranced summer night 
Forests, branch-charmed by the earnest stars, 
Dream, and so dream ali night without a noise 
Save from one gradual solitary gust 
Swelling upon the silence, dying ofF, 
As if the ebbing air had but one wave. 

Hyperion. 



[55] 



JULY ELEVENTH 

The shut rose shall dıeam of our loves, and awake 
Full-blown, and such warmth for the morning 

take 
The stock dove shall hatch his soft twin eggs and 

coo, 
While I kiss to the melody, aching ali through ! 

Song. 

JULY TWELFTH 

He has his Summer, when luxuriously 
Spring's honied cud of youthful thought he loves 
To ruminate, and by such dreaming nigh 
His nearest unto Heaven. 

Sonnet: The Human Seasons. 

JULY THIRTEENTH 

As a willow keeps 
A patient vvatch över the stream that creeps 
Windingly by it, so the quiet maid 
Held her in peace, so that a vvhispering blade 
Of grass, a wailful gnat, a bee bustling 
Dov^'n in the blue-bells^, or a wren light rustling 
Among sere leaves and tvvigs, might ali be heard. 

EnJjfnlon. 

JULY FOURTEENTH 

The poetry of earth is never dead; 

When ali the birds are faint with the hot sun 

And hide in cooling trees, a voice \vill run 

[56] 



From hedge to hedge about the new mown mead 
That is the grasshopper's — he takes the lead 
in summer luxury. 

Sonnet XV. 



JULY FIFTEENTH 

Thy roses came to me, 
My sense with their deliciousness was spell'd: 
Soft voices had they, that with tender plea 
Whisper'd of peace, and truth, and friendliness 
unquelled. 

" 7o a Friend ıjuho sent me som e roses.''' 



JULY SIXTEENTH 

As the year 
Grows lush in juicy stalks, I 'II smoothly steer 
My httle boat, for many quiet hours, 
With streams that deepen freshly into bowers. 

Endymion, 

JULY SEVENTEENTH 

it is a flaw 
in happiness, to see beyond our bourn, — 
it forces us in summer skies to mourn, 
it spoils the singing of the Nightingale. 

Epistle to John Hamilton Reynolds. 



isı\ 



JULY EIGHTEENTH 

O soft embalmer of the stili midnight, 

Shutting with careful fingers and benign, 

Our gloom-pleased eyes, embovvered from the 

light, 
Enshaded in forgetfulness divine. 

To Sleep. 



JULY NINETEENTH 

I am wound up in deep astonishment. 

Otho the Great. 

JULY TWENTIETH 

The swan, soft leaning on her fledgy breast 
When to the stream she launches, looks not back 
\Vith such a tender grace; nor are her vvings 
So white as your soul is, if that but be 
Twin picture to your face. 

Otho the Great. 



JULY TWENTY-FIRST 

Why, I have been a butterfly, a lord 

Of flowers, garlands, love-knots, silly posies, 

Groves, meadows, melodies and arbour-roses. 

Endjmion. 



[58 



JULY TWENTY-SECOND 

There is the sun, the sun ! 
And the most patient brilliance of the moon ! 
And stars by thousands. 

Hy peri on. 

JULY TWENTY-THIRD 

What is more gentle than a wind in summer ? 
What is more soothing than the pretty hummer 
That stays one moment in an öpen flower 
And buzzes cheerily from bower to bower ? 

Sleep and Poetry. 

JULY TWENTY-FOURTH 

The sidelong view of swelling leafiness 
Which the glad setting sun in gold doth dress. 

Calidore. 

JULY TWENTY-FIFTH 

O Maker of sweet poets, dear deh'ght 
Of this fair world, and ali its gentle livers; 
Spangler of clouds, halo of crystal rivers, 
Mingler with leaves, and dew, and tumbling 

streams, 
Closer of lovely eyes to lovely dreams, 
Lover of loneliness and wandering, 
Of upcast eye, and tender pondering! 
Thee must I praise above ali other glories 
That smile on us to teli delightful stories. 

" I stood tip-toe.'''' 
[59] 



JULY TWENTY-SIXTH 

The bright glance from beauty's eyelids slanting 
Would never make a lay of mine enchanting, 
Or warm my breast with ardour to unfold 
Some tale of love and arms in time of old. 

To George Keats. 



JULY TWENTY-SEVENTH 

As from the darkening gloom a silver dove 
Upsoars, and darts into the eastern hght, 
On pinions that naught moves but püre delight, 
So fled thy soul into the realms above, 
Regions of peace and everlasting love. 

So?ınet. 



JULY TWENTY-EIGHTH 

To sweet rest 
Shall the dear babe upon its mother's breast, 
Be luUed with songs of mine. 

To George Keats. 



JULY TWENTY-NINTH 

Ah ! had I never seen 
Or knov^^n your kindness, what might I have 
been .? 

To Charles Coıvden Clarke. 



[ 60 



JULY THIRTIETH 

The moist scent of flowers, and grass, and leaves, 
Fills forest-dells with a pervading air, 
Known to the woodland nostril. 



Hyperion. 



JULY THIRTY-FIRST 

I do not know the time 
When I have wept for sorrow. 



Otho the Great. 



[6ı ] 



AUGUST 

AUGUST FIRST 

ye ! who have your eye-balls vex'd and 



O" 



tired, 
Feast them upon the wideness of the Sea. 

Sonnet -. On the Sea. 

AUGUST SECOND 

I was at home 
And should have been most happy — but I saw 
Too far into the sea. 

Epistle to John Hamilton Reynolds. 

AUGUST- THIRD 

As ali things mourn awhile 
At fleeting blisses, 
Let us too; but be our dirge 
A dirge of kisses. 

On . 

AUGUST FOURTH 

Where sweet air stirs 
Blue hare-bells lightly, and where prickly furze 
Buds lavish gold. 

Endymion. 

[63] 



AUGUST FIFTH 

There blossom'd suddenly a magic bed 
Of sacred ditamy, and poppies red, 
At which I wondered greatly, knowing well 
That but one night had vvrought this flowery 
spell. 

Endymion. 

AUGUST SIXTH 

The crown 
Of ali my life was utmost quietude. 

Endymion. 



AUGUST SEVENTH 

Oh ! How I love, on a fair summer's eve, 
When streams of light pour down the golden west, 
And on the balnıy zephyrs tranquil rest 
The silver clouds, far — far away to leave 
AH meaner thoughts, and take a svveet reprieve 
From little cares; to find, with easy quest, 
A fragrant wild, with nature's beauty drest, 
And there into delight my soul deceive. 

Sonnei. 

AUGUST EIGHTH 

For thee, she will thy every dvvelling grace, 
And make "a sunshine in a shady place." 

To George Felton Mattheıu. 
[64] 



AUGUST NINTH 

Ripe was the drowsy hour; 
The blissful cloud of summer indolence 
Benumbed my eyes; my pulse grew less and 

less; 
Pain had no sting, and pleasure's wreath no 
flower. 

0de on indolence. 

AUGUST TENTH 

To one who has been long in city pent 

'T is very sweet to look into the fair 

And öpen face of Heaven — to breathe a prayer 

Full in the smile of the blue firmament. 

Sonnet X. 

AUGUST ELEVENTH 

DeHcious sounds ! those Httle bright-eyed things 
That float about blue air on azure wings. 

Calidore. 

AUGUST TWELFTH 

Thou didst die 
A half-blown flow'ret which cold blasts amate. 
But this is past : thou art among the stars 
Of highest Heaven. 

Hyperion, 

[65] 



AUGUST THIRTEENTH 

What but thee, Sleep ? Soft closer of our eyes, 
Low murmurer of tender lullabies ! 
Light hoverer round our happy pillows, 
Wreather of poppy-buds, and vveeping vvillovvs ! 

Sleep and Poetry. 

AUGUST FOURTEENTH 

0'ershadowing shadow doth not make thee less 

Delightful : thou thy griefs dost dress 

With a bright balo, shining beamily 

As when a cloud the golden moon doth veil. 

Sonnet: To Byron. 

AUGUST FIFTEENTH 

Sequestered leafy glades, 
That through the dimness of their twilight show 
Large dock-leaves, spiral foxgloves, or the glow 
Of the wild cat's eyes, or the silvery stems 
Of dehcate birch trees, or long grass which hems 
A Httle brook. 

Calidore. 

AUGUST SIXTEENTH 

Man's voice was on the mountains; and the mass 
Of nature's lives and wonders puls'd tenfold 
To feel this sun-rise, and its glories old. 

Endyjnion, 

[66] 



AUGUST SEVENTEENTH 

My higher hope 
Is of too wide, too rainbow large a scope 
To fret at myriads of earthly wrecks 
Wherein lies happiness ? 

Endymion. 

AUGUST EIGHTEENTH 

On one side is a field of drooping oats, 
Through which the poppies show their scarlet 
coats. 

To Charles Coıvden Clarke. 

AUGUST NINETEENTH 

Why linger you so, the wild labyrinth strolling ? 
Why breathless, unable your bliss to declare ? 
Ah ! you list to the nightingale's tender condoHng 
Responsive to sylphs, in the moon-beaming air. 

To some Ladies. 

AUGUST TWENTIETH 

She set herself, high-thoughted, how to dress 
The misery in fit nıagnificence. 

Lamia. 

AUGUST TWENTY-FIRST 

The breezes were ethereal, and püre, 

And crept through half-closed lattices to cure 

The languid sick; it cool'd their fevered sleep. 

" / stood tip-toe.'"'' 
[67] 



AUGUST TVVENTY-SECOND 

How light 
Must dreams themselves be; seeing they 're more 

slight 
Than the mere nothing that engenders them ! 

Endymion, 



AUGUST TWENTY-THIRD 

Let a portion of ethereal dew 
Fail on my head, and presently unmew 
My soul. 

Endyminn. 



AUGUST TWENTY-FOURTH 

But let me laugh awhile, I 've mickle time to 
grieve. 

E-vc of St. Agnes. 



AUGUST TWENTY-FIFTH 

The sweet converse of an innocent mind, 
Whose words are images of thoughts refin'd, 
Is my soul's pleasure; and it sure must be 
Almost the highest bliss of human-kind 
When to thy haunts two kindred spirits flee. 

Sonnet. 



[68] 



AUGUST TWENTY-SIXTH 

Her form seems floating palpable, and near; 
Had I e'er seen her from an arbour take 
A dewy flower, oft would that hand appear 
And o'er my eyes the trembling moisture shake. 
İmitation of Spenser. 



AUGUST TWENTY-SEVENTH 

Lo ! the poppies hung 
Dew-dabbled on their stalks, the ouzel sang 
A heavy ditty, and the suUen day 
Had chidden herald Hesperus away, 
With leaden looks. 

Endymion. 



AUGUST TWENTY-EIGHTH 

Fair on your graces fail this early morrow. 

Otho the Great. 



AUGUST TWENTY-NINTH 

When the pleasant sun is getting low, 
Again I '11 linger in a sloping mead 
To hear the speckled thrushes, and see feed 
Our idle sheep. 

Endymion. 



[69 



AUGUST THIRTIETH 

O melancholy, turn thine eyes away ! 
O Music, Music, breathe despondingly ! 
O Echo, Echo, on some other day 
From isles Lethean, sigh to us — O sigh ! 

Is ab e I la. 



AUGUST THIRTY-FIRST 

Good-bye earth and sea, 
And air, and pains, and çare, and suffering; 
Good-bye to ali but love ! 

Endymion. 



[ 70 



SEPTEMBER 



SEPTEMBER FIRST 

THE short-lived, paly Summer is but won 
From Winter's ague, for one hour's gleam ; 
Though sapphire-warm, their stars do never 
beam. 

Sonnet : On Visiting the Tomb of Bum s. 

SEPTEMBER SECOND 

Yes, I will be thy priest, and build a fane 

in some untrodden region of my mind, 

Where branched thoughts, new grown with pleas- 

ant pain, 
Instead of pines shall murmur in the wind. 

0de to Psyche. 

SEPTEMBER THIRD 

The rose leaves itself upon the briar, 
For winds to kiss and grateful bees to feed, 
And the ripe plum stili wears its dim attire, 
The undisturbed lake has crystal space, 
Why then should man, teasing the world for grace, 
Spoil his salvation for a fierce miscreed ? 

T'Vüo Sonnets on Fame. 
[71 ] 



SEPTEMBER FOURTH 

Joyous ali follovv'd, as the leader call'd, 
Down marble steps; pouring as easily 
As hour-glass sand — and fast as you might see 
Swallows obeying the south summer's cali, 
Or swans upon a gentle vvaterfall. 

Endymion. 

SEPTEMBER FIFTH 

I am but a voice; 
My life is but the life of winds and tides, 
No more than winds and tides can I avail. 

Hy perlon. 

SEPTEMBER S1XTH 

Calmest thoughts come round us; as of leaves 
Budding — fruit ripening in stillness, autumn 

suns 
Smiling at eve upon the quiet sheaves. 

Sonneî. 

SEPTEMBER SEVENTH 

Mortal, that thou may'st undcrstand aright, 
I humanise my sayings to thine ear, 
Making comparisons of earthly things; 
Or thou might'st better listen to the wind, 
Whose language is to thee a barren noise, 
Though it blo\vs legend-laden thro' the trees. 

Hyperion. 

[72] 



SEPTEMBER EIGHTH 

it was a den, where no insulting light 

Could glimmer on their tears; where their own 

groans 
They fek but heard not, for the solid roar 
Of thunderous vvaterfalls, and torrents hoarse, 
Pouring a constant bulk, uncertain where 
Crag jutting forth to crag, and rocks that seem'd 
Even as if just rising from a sleep. 

Hyperion. 

SEPTEMBER NINTH 

So far her voice flow'd on, like timorous brook, 
That lingering along a pebbled coast 
Doth fear to meet the sea. 

Hyperion. 

SEPTEMBER TENTH 

soothest Sleep ! if so it please thee, close, 
in midst of this thine hymn, my willing eyes, 
Or wait the Amen, ere thy poppy throws 
Around my bed its luUing charities. 

To Sleep. 

SEPTEMBER ELEVENTH 

Fresh morning gusts have blown away ali fear 
From my glad bosom, — now from gloominess 

1 mount for ever. 

Sonnet. 



SEPTEMBER TWELFTH 

On the far depth where sheeted lightning plays; 
Or, on the wavy grass outstretch'd supinely, 
Pry 'mong the stars, to strive to think divinely. 
To my Brother George. 



SEPTEMBER THIRTEENTH 
O Sorrow, 
Why dost borrow 
The mellow ditties from a mourning tongue ? 
To give at evening pale, 
Unto the nightingale, 
That thou mayst listen the cold dews among ? 

Endymion. 



SEPTEMBER FOURTEENTH 

Behold upon this happy earth we are; 
Let us aye love each other. 

Endymion. 



SEPTEMBER FIFTEENTH 

O bright-eyed Hope, my morbid fancy cheer; 
Let me awhile thy sweetest comforts boırovv; 
Thy heaven-born radiance around me shed, 
And wave thy silver pinions o'er my head. 

To Hope. 



[74] 



SEPTEMBER SIXTEENTH 

The coy moon, when in the waviness 
Of whitest clouds she does her beauty dress, 
And staidly paces higher up and higher, 
Like a sweet nun in holy-day attire. 

To George Keats. 

SEPTEMBER SEVENTEENTH 

Happy in beauty, Hfe and love and everything. 

Lamia. 

SEPTEMBER EIGHTEENTH 

Strange ! that honey 
Can't be got without hard money. 

Robin Hood. 

SEPTEMBER NINETEENTH 

Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn 
Among the river sallows, borne aloft 
Or sinking as the Hght wind lives or dies, 
And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly 

bourn. 

To Autmnn. 

SEPTEMBER TWENTIETH 

in the mild days of autumn, on their eves 
The breath of Winter comes from far away, 
And the sick west continually bereaves 
Of some gold tinge, and plays a roundelay 

[75] 



Of death among the bushes and the leaves, 
To make ali bare before he dares to stray 
From his north cavern. 

Isabella. 

SEPTEMBER TWENTY-FIRST 

Bıother, 't is vain to hide 
That thou dost know of things mysterious, 
Immortal, starry, such alone could thus 
VVeigh down thy nature. 

Endymion. 

SEPTEMBER TWENTY-SECOND 

What is there in thee, Moon ! that thou shouldst 

move ^ 

My heart so potently ? When yet a child 
I oft have dried my tears when thou hast smiled. 

EnJymioTi. 

SEPTEMBER TWENTY-THIRD 

O Moon ! far-spooming Ocean bows to thee. 

Endymion. 



SEPTEMBER TWENTY-FOURTH 

Art thou wayworn or canst not further trace 
The diamond path ? And does it indeed end 
Abrupt in nıiddle air ? 

Endjmion. 

[76] 



SEPTEMBER TWENTY-FIFTH 

Ah, ripe sheaves 
Of happiness ! Ye on the stubble droop, 
But never may be garner'd. 

Endymion. 



SEPTEMBER TWENTY-SIXTH 

By experience 
I know how the great basement of ali power 
Is frankness, and a true tongue to the world. 

Otfıo the Great. 



SEPTEMBER TWENTY-SEVENTH 

Love thwarted in bad temper oft has vent. 

The Cap and Bells. 



SEPTEMBER TWENTY-EIGHTH 

I would not be dieted with praise, 
A pet lamb in a sentimental farce. 

0de on Indolence. 



SEPTEMBER TWENTY-NINTH 

A curious volume, patch'd and torn, 
That ali day long, from earliest morn, 
Had taken captive her two eyes, 
Amongst its golden broideries; 
[77] 



Perplex'd her \vith a thousancl things — 
The stars of Heaven and angels' wings, 

Martyrs in a fiery blaze, 

Azure saints and silver rays. 

The Enje of St. Mark. 



SEPTEMBER THIRTIETH 

The poetry of eaıth is ceasing never. 

To the Grasshopper and Cricket. 



[78] 



m^^^m 



OCTOBER 



OCTOBER FIRST 

UTUMN bold 



Al 

"*■ ^ With universal tinge of sober gold. 

En<Jymion. 

OCTOBER SECOND 

Thank the great gods, and look not bitterly; 
And speak not one pale word, and sigh no more. 

Endjmio?:. 

OCTOBER THIRD 

Be happy, both of you ! For I will pull 
The flowers of autumn for your coronals. 

Endymion. 

OCTOBER FOURTH 

When last the sun his autumn tresses shook. 

EnJymion. 

OCTOBER FIFTH 

Receive the truth, and let it be your balm. 

Hy perlon. 

[79] 



OCTOBER SIXTH 

No stir of air was there, 
Not so much life as on a summer's day 
Robs not one light seed from the feathered grass, 
But where the dead leaf fell, there did it rest. 

Hy perlon. 

OCTOBER SEVENTH 

Who loves to linger with that brightest one 

Of Heaven — Hesperus — let him lowly speak 

These numbers to the night and starlight meek 

Or moon, if that her hunting be begun, 

He who knovvs these deHghts, and too is prone 

To morahse upon a smile or tear 

Will find at önce a region of his own 

A bower for his spirit, and will steer 

To alleys where the fir-tree drops its cone, 

Where robins hop, and fallen leaves are sear. 

Sonnet: On Leigh Hunfs Poem. 

OCTOBER EIGHTH 

She went 



in pale contented şort of discontent. 



Lamia. 



OCTOBER NINTH 

Thou must wander far 
in other regions, past the scanty bar 
To mortal steps, before thou canst be ta'en 
From every wasting sigh, from every pain. 

Endytr.io 
[80] 



OCTOBER TENTH 

Scanty the hour, and few the steps beyond the 

bourn of çare, 
Beyond the sweet and bitter world — beyond it 

unaware, 
Scanty the hour, and few the steps, because a 

longer stay 
Would bar return, and maka a man forget his 

way. 

Lines avritten in the Highlands. 

OCTOBER ELEVENTH 

The fire is going out and no one rings 

For coals, and therefore no coals Betty brings. 

A Party of Lo^-uers. 

OCTOBER TWELFTH 

Let none profane my Holy See of love, 

Or with a rude hand break 

The sacramental cake; 

Let none else touch the just new budded flower. 

If not — may my eyes close 

Lone ! on their last repose. 



0de to Fanny. 



OCTOBER THIRTEENTH 

There 's arch Brook 
And there 's larch Brook, 
Both turning many a mili; 
[8ı ] 



And cooling the drouth 

Of the salmon's mouth, 

And fattening his silver giU. 



Teignmouth. 



Lamia. 



OCTOBER FOURTEENTH 

The squirrel's granary is full 
And the harvest 's done. 

La Belle Dame şans Merci. 

OCTOBER FIFTEENTH 

I take no personal revenge. 

Otho the Great. 

OCTOBER SIXTEENTH 

Like the hid scent in an unbudded rose. 

OCTOBER SEVENTEENTH 

And coverlids gold-tinted hke the peach, 

Or ripe October's faded marigolds, 

Fell sleek about hini in a thousand folds. 

Endymion. 

OCTOBER EIGHTEENTH 

'T is not in medicine 
Either of heaven or earth to cure, unless 
Fit time be chosen to administer. 

Otho the Great. 
[82] 



OCTOBER NINETEENTH 

On the shore 
Of the wide world I stand alone and think 
Till love and pain to nothingness do sink. 

Sonnet. 

OCTOBER TWENTIETH 

To bear ali naked truths 
And to envisage circumstance ali calm 
That is the top of sovereignty. 

Hyperion. 

OCTOBER TWENTY-FIRST 

Apples, wan with sweetness, gather them, 
Cresses that grow where no man may them see, 
And sorrel untorn by the dew-clawed stag. 

Endymion. 

OCTOBER TWENTY-SECOND 

Do smile upon the evening of my days. 

Endymion. 

OCTOBER TWENTY-THIRD 

"None can usurp this height," returned that 

shade, 
" But those to whom the miseries of the world 
Are misery, and will not let them rest." 

Hyperion. 
[83] 



OCTOBER TVVENTY-FOURTH 

Think of yellow leaves, of ovvlet's cry, 
Of logs pil'd solemnly — Ah, well-a-day, 
Why should young Endymion pine away ? 

EnJymion. 

OCTOBER TWENTY-FIFTH 

Thou wast the mountain-top — the sage's pen — 
The poet's harp — the voice of friends — the sun; 
Thou wast the river — thou wast glory won ; 
Thou wast my clarion's blast — thou wast my 

steed — 
My goblet full of wine — my topmost deed; — 
Thou wast the charm of women, lovely Moon ! 

EnJymion. 

OCTOBER TWENTY-SIXTH 

Shed no tear — oh, shed no tear ! 
The flower will bloom another year. 
Adieu, adieu ! I fly, adieu ! 
I vanish in the heaven's blue. 
Adieu! Adieu! 

Faery Songs. 



OCTOBER TWENTY-SEVENTH 

Deep in the shady sadness of a vale. 
Far sunken from the healthy breath of morn, 
Far from the fiery noon, and eve's one star, 
[84] 






Sat gray-haired Satürn, quiet as a stone, 
Stili as the silence round about his lair; 
Forest on forest hung about his head 
Like cloud on cloud. 



Hyperion 



OCTOBER TWENTY-EIGHTH 
To Sorrow 
I bade good-morrow, 
And thought to leave her far away behind; 
But cheerly, cheerly, 
She loves me dearly; 
She is so constant to me, and so kind : 
I would deceive her 
And so leave her. 
But ah ! she is so constant and so kind. 

Endymion. 



OCTOBER TWENTY-NINTH 

Autumn's red-lipped fruitage too, 
Blushing through the mist and dew, 
Cloys with tasting: what do then ? 
Sit thee by the ingle, when 
The sear faggot blazes bright. 

Fancy. 



[85] 



OCTOBER THIRTIETH 

His soul has its Autumn, when his wings 
He furleth close; contented so to look 
On mists in idleness — to let fair things 
Pass by unheeded as a threshold brook. 

Sonnet : The Human Seasons. 



OCTOBER THIRTY-FIRST 

Keep his vision clear from speck, his inward 
. sight unbHnd. 

Lines ıvritten in the Highlands. 



[86] 



^<SS 



NOVEMBER 



NOVEMBER FIRST 



AT such a time the soul 's a child, in child- 
•^ -^ hood is the brain. 

Lines müritten in the Highlands. 



NOVEMBER SECOND 

To him 
Who lives beyond earth's boundary, grief is dim, 
Sorrow is but a shadow. 

Endymion. 

NOVEMBER THIRD 

Our dull uninspired snail-paced lives. 

Endymion. 

NOVEMBER FOURTH 

Now thank gentle heaven ! 
These things, with ali their comfortings, ara 

given 
To my down-sunken hours. 

Endymion. 

[87] 



NOVEMBER FIFTH 

No more advices, no more cautioning; 
I leave it ali to fate, — to anything ! 
I cannot square my conduct to time, place, 
Or circumstance; to me 't is ali a mist. 

Otho the Great. 

NOVEMBER SIXTH 

Ye love-sick Bards, repay her scorn for scorn; 
Ye Artists lovelorn, madmen that ye are ! 
Make your best bow to her, and bid adieu, 
Then, if she likes it, she will follow you. 

Tıjuo Sonnets on Fame. 

NOVEMBER SEVENTH 

Like a dismal cirque 
Of Druid stones, upon a forlorn moor, 
When the chill rain begins at shut of eve, 
in duU November, and their chancel vault, 
The Heaven itself, is blinded throughout night. 

Hyperion. 

NOVEMBER EIGHTH 

A young man's heart, by Heaven's blessing, is 
A wide world, where a thousand new-born hopes 
Empurple fresh the melancholy blood. 
But an old man's is narrovv, tenantless of hopes. 

Otho the Great. 

[88] 



NOVEMBER NINTH 

Bards of Passion and of Mirth, 
Ye have left your souls on earth ! 
Have ye souls in Heaven too, 
Double-lived in regions new ? 



NOVEMBER TENTH 



0de. 



What a fool an injury may make of a staid man ! 

Otho the Great. 



NOVEMBER ELEVENTH 

O fret not after knovvledge — I have none, 
And yet my song comes native with the warmth. 
O fret not after knowledge — I have none 
And yet the Evening hstens. 

Lines f rom a Letter to John Hamilton Reynolds. 

NOVEMBER TWELFTH 

O magic sleep ! O comfortable bird, 

That broodest o'er the troubled sea of the mind, 

Till it is hush'd and smooth ! 

Endymton. 

NOVEMBER THIRTEENTH 

Be no more remembered after death 
Than any drummer 's in the muster-roll. 

Otho the Great. 

[89] 



NOVEMBER FOURTEENTH 

O dreams of day and night ! 
O monstrous forms ! O effigies of pain ! 
O spectres busy in a cold cold gloom ! 
O lank-eared Phantoms of black-weeded pools ! 
Why do I know ye ? Why have I seen ye ? 

Hyperion. 

NOVEMBER FIF-TEENTH 

Glory and loveliness have passed away; 
For if we wander out in early morn, 
No wreathed incense do we see upborne 
Into the east, to meet the smiling day. 

To Leigh Hunt, Esq. 

NOVEMBER SIXTEENTH 

Sappho's meek head was there half smiling dovvn 
At nothing; just as though the earnest frown 
Of over-thinking had that moment göne 
From off her brow, and left her ali alone. 

Sleep and Poetry. 

NOVEMBER SEVENTEENTH 

So does the moon 
The passion poesy, glories infinite, 
Haunt us till they become a chcering light 
Unto our souls, and bound to us so fast, 
That, whether there be shine, or gloom o'ercast; 
They always must be with us, or we die. 

Endymion. 
[90] 



NOVEMBER EIGHTEENTH 

The days of peace and slumberous calm are fled. 

Hyperion. 

NOVEMBER NINETEENTH 

'T is the witching hour of night, 
Orbed in the moon and bright, 
And the stars they glisten, gHsten, 
Seeming with bright eyes to listen — 
For what Hsten they ? 
For a song and for a charm, 
See they glisten in alarm, 
And the moon is waxing warm 
To hear what I shall say. 

A Prophecy. 



NOVEMBER TWENTIETH 

The spirit culls 
Unfaded amaranth, when \vild it strays 
Through the old garden-ground of boyish days. 

Endymion. 

NOVEMBER TWENTY-FIRST 

Nature withheld Cassandra in the slcies, 
For more adornment, a full thousand years; 
She took their cream of Beauty's fairest dyes, 
And shaped and tinted her above ali peers; 

[91 ] 



Meantime Love kept her dearly with his wings, 
And underneath their shadow fill'd her eyes — 
With such a richness that the cloudy things 
Of high Olympus utter'd slavish sighs. 

Translated from a Sonnet of Ronsard. 

NOVEMBER TWENTY-SECOND 

Why were ye not awake ? But ye were dead 
To -things ye knew not of — were closely wed 
To musty laws Hved out with wretched rule 
And compass vile; so that ye taught a school 
Of dolts to smooth, inlay, and cHp, and fit. 

Sleep and Poetry. 

NOVEMBER TWENTY-THIRD 
I look into the chasıns, and a shroud 
Vaporous doth hide them — just so much I wist 
Mankind do know of hell; I look o'erhead, 
And there is sullen mist, — even so much 
Mankind can teli of heaven; mist is spread 
Before the earth, beneath us, — even such, 
Even so vague is man's sight of himself. 

Sonnet ^vr itten from the Top of Ben Le'vis. 

NOVEMBER TWENTY-FOURTH 

Days on days have flown, 
Slowly, or rapidly — unwilling stili 
For you to try my duU unlearned quill. 
[92] 



Nor should I now, but that I 've known you long; 
That you first taught me ali the sweets of song. 

To Charles Conuden Clarke. 



NOVEMBER TWENTY-FIFTH 

My spirit is too weak — mortalıty 
Weighs heavily on me like unwilling sleep 



SonneU 



NOVEMBER TWENTY-SIXTH 
Come then, Sorrow ! 
Sweetest Sorrow ! 
Like an own babe I nurse thee on my breast; 
I thougbt to leave thee 
And deceive thee, 
But now of ali the world 1 love thee best. 

Endymion. 



NOVEMBER TVV^ENTY-SEVENTH 
Oh Sorrow, 
Why dost borrow 
The natural hue of health, from vermeil lips 
To give maiden blushes 
To the white rose bushes ? 
Or is 't thy dewy hand the daisy tips ? 



Endymion. 
[93] 



NOVEMBER TWENTY-EIGHTH 

From the heart up-springs, rejoice ! rejoice ! 
Sounds which will reach the Framer of ali things, 
And die away in ardent nıutterings. 

Sleep and Poetry. 

NOVEMBER TWENTY-NINTH 

Let the mad poets say whate'er they please 
Of the svveets of Fairies, Perls, Goddesses, 
There is not such a treat among them ali, 
Hunteıs of cavern, lake, and waterfall. 
As a real vvoman, lineal indeed 
From Pyrrha's pebbles, or old Adam's seed. 

Lamia. 

NOVEMBER THIRTIETH 

The damn'd erime of blurting to the world 
A woman's secret ! 

Otho the Great. 



[94] 



DECEMBER 



DECEMBER FIRST 

AWAY, ye horrid moods ! 
Moods of one's mind ! You know I hate 
them well. 
• You know I 'd sooner be a clapping beli 
To some Kamtschatkan Missionary Church, 
Than with these horrid moods be left i' the lurch. 
Epistle to John Hamilton Reynolds. 



DECEMBER SECOND 

O Moon ! the oldest shades 'mong oldest trees 
Feel palpitations when thou lookest in. 

Endymu 



DECEMBER THIRD 

He has his winter too of pale misfeature, 
Or else he would forego his mortal natura. 

Sonnet: The Human Seasons. 



[95] 



DECEMBER FOURTH 

Out, ye frozen Faeries, out! 
Chilly lovers, what a rout 
Keep ye with your frozen breath, 
Colder than the mortal death. 

Song of Four Fairies. 



DECEMBER FIFTH 

There is a roaring in the bleak-grown pines 
When Winter lifts his voice. 

Hyperion. 



DECEMBER SIXTH 

in a drear-nighted December, 
Too happy, happy tree, 
Thy branches ne'er remember 
Their green fehcity. 

Stanzas. 



DECEMBER SEVENTH 

He mourns that day so soon has glided by; 
E'en like the passage of an angel's tear 
That falls through the clear ether silently. 



Sonnet. 



[96 



DECEMBER EIGHTH 

My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains 
My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk, 
Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains 
One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk. 

0de to a Nightingale. 



DECEMBER NINTH 

Pensive they sit, and roll their languid eyes, 

Nibble their toast, and cool their tea with sighs, 

Or else forget the purpose of the night, 

Forget their tea — forget their appetite. 

See with crossed arms they sit — ah, hapless 

crew! 

A Party of Loverı. 

DECEMBER TENTH 

Give me a golden pen, and let me lean 

On heap'd-up flowers, in regions clear and far; 

Bring me a tablet whiter than a star 

Or hand of hymning angel, when 't is seen 

The silver strings of heavenly harp atween. 

On leaıjing some Friends at an Early Hour. 

DECEMBER ELEVENTH 

Ambition is no sluggard; 't is no prize 

That toiling years should put within my grasp, 

That I have sigh'd for. 

Endymion. 

[97] 



DECEMBER TWELFTH 

May we together pass, and calmly try 

What are this vvorld's true joy — ere the great 

voice 
From its fair face shall bid our spirits fly. 

To my Brothers. 

DECEMBER THIRTEENTH 

Darkling I listen; and, for many a time 

I have been half in love with easeful Death, 

Call'd him soft namcs in many a mused rhyme 

To take into the air my quiet breath; 

Now more than ever seems it rich to die, 

To cease upon the midnight with no pain, 

While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad 

in such an ecstasy ! 
Stili wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain — 
To thy high requiem become a sod. 

0de to a Nightingale. 



DECEMBER FOURTEENTH 

To know the change and feel it, 
When there is none to heal it, 
Nor numbed sense to steal it, 
Was never said in rhyme. 

Stanzas, 



[98] 



DECEMBER FIFTEENTH 

He who saddens 
At thoughts of idleness, cannot be idle, 
And he 's awake who thinks himself asleep. 

Lines from a Letter to John Hamilton Reynolds. 



DECEMBER SIXTEENTH 

Yet I must not forget 

Sleep, quiet \vith his poppy coronet. 

For what there may be worthy in these rhymes, 

I partly owe to him. 

Sleep and Poetry. 



DECEMBER SEVENTEENTH 

Then dance, and song, 
And garlanding gre\v wild; and pleasure reigned. 

Endymion. 



DECEMBER EIGHTEENTH 

This is to wake in Paradise! Farewell, 

Thou clod of yesterday ! 't was not myself. 

Not tiU this moment did I ever feel 

My spirit's faculties. 

Otho the Great. 

[99] 



DECEMBER NINETEENTH 

Who dares cali down 
My \vill from its high purpose ? Who say StanJ 
Or GoF 
Sonnet: To a Young Lady avho sent me a Laurel Cro^vn. 

DECEMBER TWENTIETH 

The day is göne, and ali its sweets are göne ! 

Sonnet. 

DECEMBER TVVENTY-FIRST 

"Beauty is truth, truth heauty," — that is ali 
Ye knovv on eaıth, and ali ye necd to know. 

Ode on a Grecian Urn. 

DECEMBER TWENTY-SECOND 

Every sole man hatlı days of joy and pain, 
Whether his labours be suhlime or low. 

Hyperion. 

DECEMBER TWENTY-THIRD 

Until 
Time's creeping shall the dıeary space fulfil: 
Which done, and ali these labours ripened, 
A youth, by heavenly power lov'd and led, 
Shall stand bcfore hini. 

Endymion. 
[ loo ] 



DECEMBER TWENTY-FOURTH 
A thing of beauty is a joy for ever: 
Its loveliness increases; it will never 
Pass into nothingness; but stili will keep 
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep 
Full of sweet dreams, and Health, and quiet 
breathing. 

Endymion. 



DECEMBER TWENTY-FIFTH 

Bright-winged Child ! 
Who has another çare when thou hast smil'd ? 
Unfortunates on earth, we see at last 
Ali death-shadows, and glooms that overcast 
Our spirits, fann'd away by thy light pinions. 

Endymion. 

DECEMBER TWENTY-SIXTH 

Look where we will, our bird's-eye vision meets 
Legions of holiday. 

The Cap and Bells. 

DECEMBER TWENTY-SEVENTH 

Shed no tear — oh, shed no tear! 
The flower will bloom another year. 
Weep no more — oh, weep no more ! 
Young buds sleep in the root's white ecre. 
[ loı ] 



Dry your eyes — oh, dry your eyes, 
For I was taught in Paradise 
To ease my breast of melodies. 

Shed no Tear: Faery Songs. 

DECEMBER TWENTY-EIGHTH 

Child I see thee ! Child I 've found thee, 
Midst of the (juiet ali around thee! 
Child I see thee ! Child I spy thee ! 
And thy mother sweet is nigh thee ! 
Child I know thee ! Child no more. 

A Prophecy. 

DECEMBER TWENTY-NINTH 

Verse, Fame, and Beauty are intense indeed. 
But Death intenser. Death is Life's high meed. 

So7inet. 

DECEMBER THIRTIETH 

My senses are 
Stili whole: I have survived. My arm is strong, 
My appetite sharp. 

Otho the Great. 

DECEMBER THIRTY-FIRST 

Time, that aged nurs. 
Rocked me to patience. 

Endymion. 



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PreservationTechnologies 

A WORLD LEADER IH COLLECTIONS PRESERVATION 

1 1 1 Thomson Fark Drıve 
Cranberry Township, PA 16066 
(724) 779-2111 



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